I have food and shelter.
I have people to love
and be loved by.

But this love is expected
and casual and quaint.
One would assume there is no room for complaint.

I am surrounded by friends.
Their love is kind and serene.
Yet no one acknowledges the space in between.

While they are all close,
No one comes closer.
No one would dare lay their head on my shoulder.

The ones who do always have to leave.
I'm left with empty arms and a lonely spot to grieve.

Average girls get balloons and sweets.
They never ask, yet still receive.
Why can't those things be done for me?

I am tired of desire.
Of wanting to be wanted.
It's as if because I am strong, my emotions are forgotten.

Touch.
It's as simple as that.
A pet on my hair or a pat on the back.

This could cure my ailment.
Make me less alone.
I can no longer survive with chats on the phone.

So please,
Good friend of mine.
Hold my hand as I shutter and cry.

The simplest gesture,
one miniscule touch.
Even if you don't realize that it means so much.